


Full Regimental

by thesassywallflower



Series: A Place Called Home [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean In A Kilt, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Implied Sexual Content, and a teensy bit of smut, rated M mostly for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 17:28:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14774010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesassywallflower/pseuds/thesassywallflower
Summary: Dean and Kat receive a belated wedding gift from a certain ginger haired witch. Dean thinks it's a curse, but Kat soon convinces him otherwise.





	Full Regimental

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. I really stayed away from these two dorks a long time, didn't I? I mean I knew I'd come back to them eventually, but I didn't expect it to be this soon! You can totally blame my bestie. She planted the idea of Dean wearing a kilt in my head a while back, and I haven't been able shake it since. And since it's her birthday, how could I resist writing this little piece of fluffy crack? So Happy Birthday to my bestie, and hope you guys enjoy it too!

_Dear Not Moose,  
Here’s a belated wedding gift for you and your wee wifey. You may not understand it at first, but trust me. Your lady love will, and you’ll thank me later. _

_Enjoy!_  
Rowena MacLeod,  
Supreme Leader of The Mega Coven 

Dean glared down at the small, nondescript box that the college mail lady handed him just minutes ago. He’d opened it thinking it was an instructional truck thermostat he’d ordered as part of a lesson plan he was working on. Instead, inside he found an even smaller wooden box which contained a note written on fine vellum from a shady witch and what looked like a...Ken doll sized kilt? What the actual hell? What kind of wedding gift was a miniature skirt? He peered at it closer. It was kind of a nice looking scrap of plaid, a muted green and blue background topped with bands of red and yellow. Honestly, he wouldn’t mind a shirt in this pattern. Huh. The kilt even had a tiny fur sporran attached to it. Well, that was cute, but still, what was he supposed to do with it? Save it until Sam’s baby girl got big enough to play with Barbies? He had to admit though, it was kind of cool. As a massive _Braveheart_ fan, he'd always harbored a secret desire to try on a kilt. 

He pulled out the little woolen kilt to get a better look at it. As soon as he touched it, a cool breeze wafted around his legs causing the hair on them to stand straight up. Glancing down, he yelped in shock. He was greeted by the sight of his bare legs. He still had on his socks and work boots, but his jeans were nowhere to be found. In their place was a kilt. And not just any kilt, it was the same exact pattern of doll kilt that had been in the box. Which not even a second ago had been completely visible, but now seemed about as transparent as a Kardashian’s sense of discretion. 

The skin on the back of his neck crawled. Knowing Rowena and the extent of her powers, he’d almost be willing to bet Baby that he was wearing the miniature kilt right now. The question was, how the hell was he going to get it off? 

Dean tugged on the two buckles holding the kilt together on his hip, but they seemed to be stuck. Working on the belt holding the sporran, it was the same story. None of the clasps would budge. Sweat pooled at the small of his back. He frantically worked at the side buckles again, but it was no use. They weren’t going anywhere.

Shit, shit, fucking shit! Stupid fucking witches! He was supposed to pick up Kat from work in half an hour and take her out to dinner. They were celebrating the one month anniversary of declaring their love for each other. He knew it was all kinds of sappy, but didn’t give a flying fuck. Every second he and Kat had together was precious, and he wanted to celebrate each and every one of them. 

But now what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t exactly show up at a fancy Italian restaurant wearing a fucking kilt. Pretty sure it wouldn’t be up to snuff with their dress code. Shit. He didn’t have enough time to summon Rowena, that is if she would even come. She and her son were pretty much pros at ignoring their calls whenever they needed them.

Another breeze wafted around his legs, and he glanced around. Where was draft coming from? All the windows were locked up tight against the winter cold, and no one was in the shop. Once again a breeze caressed his bare legs, but instead of dying off, it shot straight up the kilt and tickled his balls. That’s when he realized that his jeans weren’t the only thing missing. A low, lilting laugh echoed through his classroom.

“Rowena!” he rasped, not wanting to yell and send a horde of students and faculty running his direction. The last thing he needed was for anyone to see him like this. He spun around the room searching for the source of that laugh. Coming face to face with his desk, he spied his jeans neatly folded with his boxers laying right on top of them. He snatched them up, but when he tried to separate the underwear from the jeans, they were stuck together as if someone had glued them. 

Great. Not only was he stuck in this skirt for who knows how long, but Rowena had taken away any chance of dignity he had left by depriving him of his underwear. “Bitch!” he bellowed, this time not caring if anyone overheard him.

He grabbed his phone out of his jeans pocket, thankfully Rowena at least allowed him that small courtesy, and found a text from his wife. _Sorry! We had a massive last minute coffee order come in, and there’s no way I can let the girls handle it alone, so I’m not going to get off as soon as I hoped. Do you mind waiting around the shop for a bit? Shouldn’t take us more than half an hour to get it out. I’ll give you TWO slices of pineapple cream pie to make up for it._

He groaned and began to pace around the room. How was he going to explain this to Kat? He couldn’t go out to dinner like this. He knew she would tell him it was fine and not to worry about it, but inside she would be disappointed. They’d both been looking forward to a night out, and now it was ruined. Just the thought put him in a worse mood, and he began mutter every curse available at that red haired hag. Finally, he stopped pacing and decided to stop putting off the inevitable. He couldn’t leave Kat just hanging at work. Gathering up his stuff, he stomped out of the room, shoving his phone and the note from Rowena into his sporran.

As soon as he exited the industrial arts building, the brisk late winter wind playfully picked up the hem of the kilt. Dean slapped both hands on the hem of the kilt. No one needed to see him do a Marilyn Monroe impersonation in the campus parking lot. Getting into the car was a bit of tricky business of trying not to flash anyone. He now understood why anyone who wore a skirt sat down first and then swung in their legs while getting into a car rather than just stepping into it. 

Driving the twenty miles from the Boulder campus to Albany passed by way quicker than he wanted, and far too soon he found himself pulling in front of his wife’s bakery. He sat there in silence for a few minutes. Before even a minute passed, he began to overheat so he ripped off his outer layers until he was only in his t-shirt, not even feeling the February chill. 

Good god, this was going to be mortifying. Please don’t let Sam or Cas be around. The ribbing he was about to get from Meg was going to be bad enough. He knew that he would have to face the guys sooner rather than later so they could rig up a spell to get him out of this thing. But he’d rather face them and their laughter, well, Sam’s laughter since they were all still working on refining Cas’ sense of humor, in private. All he wanted to do was slip into a corner table and hide out there until Kat was free. 

He stared blankly at the swirling calligraphy spelling out _Stairway To Pie_ on the bakery’s windows. Well. It was now or never. Trying not whimper as the damp winter air hit his undercarriage, he threw back his shoulders and stormed through the bakery’s door, bracing himself for the hoots of laughter that were sure to greet him.

The first thing he saw as he came into the shop was his wife’s beloved face, and her beautiful smile instantly soothed some of the tension in him. “Hi, love! How was your da-” The welcoming smile on Kat’s sweet face fall off, and her opal eyes flew wide open in shock as she got a good look at him. “Um...well then…” was all she said as the drink carrier she was holding fell out of her fingers and tumbled to the worn timber floor.

***

_“Catch me, Jamie Fraser. I’m swooning.”_

Seeing your already outrageously hot husband come strolling through your door looking like he’d walked straight of a Scottish history book was like having all your secret fantasies come to life at once. Since the day Kat had watched _Rob Roy_ in high school, she’d had a thing for men in kilts, not to mention a bit of a crush on Liam Neeson. And now, it was like she had a Scottish rogue all her own.

_“Yummy…”_ was her next thought, which was quickly followed by, _“I wonder if he’s gone full regimental under that thing.”_ The thought of nothing under that kilt, but his pure maleness made heat pool in her core as her body ached to find out. 

A shrill wolf whistle pierced her eardrums and woke her up out of her lusty thoughts. “Hey, Highlander! Yer sure a bonny sight fer sore eyes! Canna get ye a dram of whiskey and scone to go with those fine legs?” Meg hooted in a cartoonish Scottish accent, her caramel eyes flashing with laughter. 

Dean scowled at Meg and discreetly flipped her the bird. Uh oh. Something was up. Kat watched him slink over to a more secluded table in the house and throw himself into the chair. She grabbed the slices of pie she’d set aside for him out of the cooler case, and murmured, “Give me a few minutes. I’ll get him settled and then be back to help.”

Kat admired the view he presented all the entire way to his table. Lordy. This was a whole new level of attractiveness for him. His white shirt clung to his strong arms and broad shoulders, and since it was tucked into his kilt, that meant as soon as you stopped mooning over his chest your eyes were immediately drawn to his kilt. Then there was the fact that his legs were sprawled apart, stretching the pleats of the tartan across his thighs. Feeling like a naughty teen, Kat wished she could drop something on the floor so she could get a good look up that kilt. 

As soon as she got to his table, Dean’s scowl melted away and was replaced by a look of guilty regret. “Hey, sweetheart. Look, I’m so-”

Kat stopped him with a kiss, keeping it mostly chaste since they were in public, but she couldn’t resist sliding her tongue along the seam of his lips before ending it. “Let’s start over. Hello, my love. How was your day?” She slid into the seat across from him and helped herself to a piece of pie crust.

He looked at her, a slightly confused looked wrinkling his brow, “It was fine until I opened a package from a Scottish bitch and ended up with a cursed kilt stuck to my body.”

“Stuck?” Even after nearly nine months of being part of her husband’s former life of hunting monsters and supernatural phenomena, she still couldn’t wrap her head around some aspects of it. 

“Yeah. I’ve tried everything to get this thing off, but nothing worked. I even tried cutting it off with my pocket knife, but not even a single thread frayed.”

“So how did it get on you?”

Dean quickly explained, his adorably indignant tone making it hard to keep back a grin. She could totally imagine him storming around his classroom, pulling at his kilt, and cursing up a storm. Sometimes, even this mighty hunter of hers was cute when he got mad. One little item about his story caught her attention though.

“Do you still have the note with you?”

He pulled it out of the sporran along with his phone. This time she couldn’t hide her grin fast enough before he caught it. He huffed, “Well! Where else am I supposed to put my stuff? It’s not like I have pockets in this thing.”

“Now you get why women can’t stop babbling about it when their dress has pockets, don’t you?” She giggled.

“I guess,” he muttered as he handed her the crumpled piece of vellum. Good grief, this Rowena had quite the expensive taste in stationery. 

She smoothed it out and laid it on the table. The note was exactly as he’d said, short and to the point. Something in her head pinged as she read it over again. A while back, she’d read an article about spies in the 1700 and 1800’s, and the tactics they used to get secret messages out to their contacts. Flipping the piece of paper over, she brought it up to her lips and breathed across it. Instantly a message written in pale yellow ink appeared. Bingo.

_Oh, you are a smart one aren’t you, dearie? That Winchester has finally met his match. Good for the both of you. I hope you’re enjoying my little gift! I mean, what woman doesn’t love a man in a kilt? Here’s the trick to getting it off him if you so choose: only your touch can remove it._

_Ta!_  
Rowena MacLeod  
Supreme Leader of The Grand Coven 

_P.S. Hope to have a spot of tea at your adorable little shop soon!_

She finished reading it, the ink slowly fading away and leaving the paper blank once again. She glanced up at Dean. His mouth was hanging wide open as he stared back at her. “How did you know to do that?” He sputtered.

Kat shrugged, “Well, I remembered that you told me that Crowley has been around since way before Colonial times. Which meant that his mother has been around since even before that. Knowing the tiny bit I do about Crowley and all of his shady dealings, that kind of blackmail and subterfuge has to learned somewhere and what better place than at home? And when you’re in the business of shadiness, you have to use alternative ways to get information to people. Alternative ways like invisible ink.”

“Yeah, but she’s a witch! A witch would never stoop so low to use something as boring as invisible ink...well, not usually.”

“But Rowena knows you and knows that you would try magic to get that kilt off. So what better way to hide the solution to a magical problem then with something unmagical? Sometimes the best magic is no magic, right?”

He gave a bark of bemused laughter, “You really are something, darlin’. Cas, Sam and me probably would’ve spent hours, days even trying to figure out a spell to get this thing off, and here you find the answer within seconds.” He leaned across the table, cupped her face in his big, rough hands, and brought his lips to hers. Kat shivered in delight as she leaned into the kiss. No matter how many times he touched her, it still felt like the first. Dean took his time with the kiss, leisurely letting his tongue play with hers. Finally ending the kiss he said, “Thank you. Now, how about you help me get this thing off.”

“No problem. You...you don’t have to take it off right away do you?” She would be perfectly happy if he decided to stick with this look for a few months, honestly.

“You like it? Really? You know I can’t go to dinner like this. There’s no way those stuck up hostesses at Alphonse will let me through the door like this.”

Kat smiled shyly, “I’m perfectly content staying in. I’ve always had a thing for a guy in a kilt ever since I watched _Rob Roy_ during our sophomore year.”

“I see… We’ll keep in on for a little longer then. So you don’t mind that we’re going to have to skip dinner?”

“Not if I get to live out my fantasies for a little bit.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. 

Slowly, a heated grin spread across his face and his eyes crinkled with languid glee, “Sweetheart, are you wondering what I’ve got on under this thing?”

“What? Oh! I think I hear Meg calling for help. I gotta go. We’ll be done in about 20 or 30 minutes. Bye!” She scurried away before she could herself into deeper trouble. Hearing a husky laugh rumbling behind her, she glanced back just in time to watch him spread his legs even wider and pull up the hem of the kilt a couple inches, exposing a bit of thigh. He bit his sinfully full bottom lip and winked at her. With cheeks burning, she whipped her head back around and hurried behind the coffee bar.

***

The next 30 minutes sped by for Dean. He was having a way too fun much teasing Kat with this kilt now that he knew it turned her on. Every time she glanced his way, he eased it up another inch. At this rate, he was going to be turned in for public nudity soon, but the scorching looks she kept sending his way would make it all worth it.

The people who had placed the massive order, 75 drinks for a school staff meeting, finally came by to pick it up, and after they left, the girls sped around the shop cleaning it up and getting it prepped for the next day. As soon as Meg and Shayla were out the door, Kat slammed the deadbolt shut, flipped the closed sign, and grabbed Dean’s hand, dragging him towards the kitchen. “You. Kitchen. NOW.”

The eager smirk on his face melted into a sigh of appreciation when as soon as they got into kitchen, she tore off her sweater and tugged his head down for a torrid kiss that set his whole body on fire. Kat pressed her lush body against him, frantically trying to get as close to him as possible, crushing her soft breasts against his chest and arching her hips against the rapidly tenting front of his kilt. Moments filled with sighs and moans passed until finally coming up for air, he croaked. “Och lassie, those pretty breasts and soft lips of yours make this kilt tilt faster than a Scotsman tears up at the opening notes of _Loch Lomond_.” 

“You don’t say…” Kat gave a throaty chuckle and licked her lips. He was so engrossed with watching the path her tongue took across her lips that he nearly missed the fact that she was sliding the kilt up his legs. It wasn’t until caress of her small hands on his bare thighs that he realized what she was about to do.

He groaned in anticipation. Shit and fucking damn. Now, he was going to have to tell Rowena she was right and thank her for her wedding gift instead of chewing her out. But if that’s the price he had to pay, then right now, he was willing to throw that witch his whole wallet.


End file.
